The Yellow Crayon eBook

“I am pardoned,” Passmore said, “for
speaking plainly of family matters—­my concern
in which is of course purely professional?”

Mr. Sabin looked up for a moment, but he signified
his assent.

“You left America,” Passmore said, “in
search of your wife, formerly Countess of Radantz,
who had left you unexpectedly.”

“It is true!” Mr. Sabin answered.

“Madame la Duchesse on reaching London became
the guest of the Duchess of Dorset, where she has
been staying since. Whilst there she has received
many visits from Mr. Reginald Brott.”

Mr. Sabin’s face was as the face of a sphinx.
He made no sign.

“You do not waste your time, sir, over the Society
papers. Yet you have probably heard that Madame
la Duchesse and Mr. Reginald Brott have been written
about and spoken about as intimate friends. They
have been seen together everywhere. Gossip has
been busy with their names. Mr. Brott has followed
the Countess into circles which before her coming
he zealously eschewed. The Countess is everywhere
regarded as a widow, and a marriage has been confidently
spoken of.”

Mr. Sabin bowed his head slightly. But of expression
there was in his face no sign.

“These things,” Passmore continued, “are
common knowledge. I have spoken up to now of
nothing which is not known to the world. I proceed
differently.”

“Good!” Mr. Sabin said.

“There is,” Passmore continued, “in
the foreign district of London a man named Emil Sachs,
who keeps a curious sort of a wine-shop, and supplements
his earnings by disposing at a high figure of certain
rare and deadly poisons. A few days ago the Countess
visited him and secured a small packet of the most
deadly drug the man possesses.”

Mr. Sabin sat quite still. He was unmoved.

“The Countess,” Passmore continued, “shortly
afterwards visited these rooms. An hour after
her departure Duson was dead. He died from drinking
out of your liqueur glass, into which a few specks
of that powder, invisible almost to the naked eye,
had been dropped. At Dorset House Reginald Brott
was waiting for her. He left shortly afterwards
in a state of agitation.”

“And from these things,” Mr. Sabin said,
“you draw, I presume, the natural inference
that Madame la Duchesse, desiring to marry her old
admirer, Reginald Brott, first left me in America,
and then, since I followed her here, attempted to
poison me.”